


Arth-ur more of us?

by CharredLeek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharredLeek/pseuds/CharredLeek
Summary: Arthur decides to swap in his spatula for a wand, but cant help but take pocketful of peppermints with him!





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: (The Cat won't eat my toast)

Authors note: (Final Revision for this chapter. Name did not fit him,will edit chapters somewhere else other than the publishing section next time! :) )

Staring back was a head of choppy unmanageable dark brown hair flopping mainly over his eyes like a dog's ears would, and if you pushed it back you could possibly see a cheerful ovalish face and a long wide snub nose with ears that stuck out just a bit. The baby fat really wouldn't be melting away for a while, as if someone kept taking sandpaper in the night to his face whenever they saw signs of him getting edges just to spite him. And paired with eyebrows that were thicker than any gran's woolen jumpers, and more large splotches of freckles than she has grandchildren. It rather looked like someone had gotten into the cabinet and taken handfuls of clumpy wet cinnamon and launched it in his face and ran while he was left to cough and sputter on the ground.

Wide shifty brown eyes darting to the next thing to mess with, darting up and then down, up, then down, then straight towards the scratches from a rather stern cat he'd tried to get to nibble on some toast from his dads diner and come back with him. The cat didn't hiss but it looked at him in such a way that he lowered the slice in shame as the jam slid off onto his shoes with a large sploch. He felt like he was in the worst trouble he'd ever managed.

Next after taking a moment to shudder from the all too recent memory, his eyes darted below his flat nose showing around one strand of hair on his upper lip that he was very very proud of, his highly amused Dad even had lended him his hair tonic, Kipple Kiss, amping him up saying he had the look of a fighting boxer that always kept their long beards in the ring and never their teeth. This, he believed, would turn it very quickly from a scraggly spider leg to a full blown airedale terrier mustache just like his Dad.

As he continued his examination, he could've sworn the hair shot out but quickly retreated to its former glory. he blinked and assumed he had just imagined it. He'd have to reapply some tonic tonight, they were making a special birthday dinner (Chocolate Nanners) and they both had planned on twirling their respective 'mustaches'.

He smiled toothily and thrusted his hand out, he'd put the frying pan far in front of him seeing the rest of himself. He was small enough that the hideous homemade jumper(he didn't think so really, he thought it held the perfect amount of ducks to be on a jumper and put it on every Saturday for Bath-Day of course. He had made it after getting trapped in a conversation with the local knitter group who stopped by for refueling after a particularly grueling session as they needed a new carpet and refused to simply buy one.) he donned drooped over to his knees. He blamed his dad for always pushing down on his head, not feeling the need to complete the ruffling part. And maybe... it could be on the account of being eleven.

The unnamed boy stared at his distorted reflection making a face of an orangutan, "Ooh!" he grunted laughing to himself before his dad, a burly ginger man wide as he was tall. With his full cocker spaniel mustache along with the rest of his neglected to shave face, which made it appear as if fire ants were running across his jaw and close cut hair, took his gorilla arms and cuffed him lightly making him swirl around in surprise asking,"Aah? Ahh?!"

His father, Mr. Dewey, set his large hand on his tiny shoulder and raised as equally as large eyebrow grinning showing off his one crooked tooth and his deep brown eyes twinkling,"You gonna kiss ya' reflection? Wouldn't recommend it!" he said, roaring with laughter pointing at the steaming pan his son, Arthur, Was currently holding.

A couple of regular customers in varying colours of tightly bundled jackets all clutching their mugs chuckled and made jokes telling "Artie" to get back to making breakfast. He hopped over excitedly to the old cooktop tripping over his feet and managed to kick a bottle of ketchup he'd forgotten he put on the floor and loads of it squirted over the grubby green tiles.

After he hurriedly scrubbed it up with the end of his apron ignoring the taunting, Arthur got on his tiptoes and further muddled his reflection by throwing sausages on the pan. They immediately sizzled and drowned his other self in thick grease, he did not dare to reach out and save him.

Not that he minded, he was only using it (mostly) to check on the blond kid with a total of three hoodies on in the back who'd taken a liking to throwing his french fries, he couldn't prove it of course, but French fries mysteriously multiplied on the floor whenever he turned back around. If he was guilty, he was guilty. And if he was innocent, the people who usually gave them their shipment of potatoes were becoming very creative. He squinted and screwed up his freckly face waving his spatula warningly at the kid, spraying grease and nearly burning a woman with Koi Fish hair once being ginger now turning white.

Arthur quickly apologized and checked her and offered multiple Band-Aids until she waved him off, still looking grouchy, he assumed she was too hungry to retaliate and injure the new cook out of fear of never getting some. But he didn't turn from the now laughing kid in the back, never turn your back from someone who had the motives to try and throw French fries in your apron pocket.

After that, everything was warm and going smoothly. Mr Dewey humming, "It's magic" his deep voice making the rather fantasy-like song into some sort of sea shanty bass line and sparing quick glances at Arthur to make sure he wasn't setting anything on fire.

A man with salty and no pepper hair, who Arthur mentally called Cian because he refused to give up his real name, drank his coffee silently amongst the rowdy bunch who were animatedly discussing last night's kids football game("The only reason he even managed to get it in right was because he slipped, ripped his shorts I might add! and it forced him to kick it ove-" "It doesn't matter how he did it! He got in!" "The Goalie wasn't even paying attentio-"),began to tap his foot to the rhythm. He wore one ruddy boot and one normal shoe, everyone suspected he had something under there of course, among the first guesses was of a foot being larger than the other. Or perhaps he couldn't be bothered, either way, the rumors spread out of control and Arthur rather thought Cian enjoyed them. He had smiled fondly once with all his wrinkles making a grand entrance when a child no more than six asked him if he had an octopus leg in there or something and that's why he hid it, he'd only replied that octopuses only had arms and didn't say much else, leaving the child to wonder.

Arthur thought all these rumors were very silly and Cian clearly just needed a bigger shoe to store his Band-Aids. This made perfect sense to Arthur as he always kept Band-Aids inside of his right shoe just in case anyone got hurt! He made sure to stock up on his one day as cook.(Although it was warm and the Band-Aids might not be as all useful as he hoped)

There was a comfortable atmosphere and clinking of plates and forks; everyone commenting on how their sausages, eggs, and toast looked good, while some chose to scrutinize every inch of their fried egg seeing if it was the perfect consistency. Not too runny and not too solid. They seemed to enjoy making Arthur nervous as they would give feedback at the end of their meal, He chose to try and keep a level head by thinking of the football match from earlier. And how the sandy-haired kid that kept pelting orange slices at the other team definitely deserved a red card, but he supposed he got one in a way when the kid who ripped his shorts bent over to pick up an orange in front of him had bright red pants with lightning bolts. Arthur snickered, covering his mouth with his hand, replaying the look of horror on the orange pelters face.

Just as he was standing in front of a particularly mischievous woman, Ciara, who he had admired very much as she'd taught him how to steal peppermints from their bowl ,bless her, when his Dad wasn't looking; waiting for her to determine if he was being sent back to sweeping the floor for the rest of the day.

(She was looking smug as he puffed his chest attempting to dare her into making a snarky comment about the toast)

Seemingly, with only the door-bell making its song as warning, an odd thick wind went over everyone. Everyone clutched their jackets tight, It felt powerful; but reclusive, seeping back into the owner. As if they'd just wanted everyone to know they were there but to look away and not trouble them. What stood there was a stern looking woman with black hair in a tight bun that would pull someone's eyes back. Her no-nonsense stare, weirdly very weirdly, reminiscent of the cat he'd tried feeding toast(At least he thought, she was a little fuzzy standing far away like that) . The very tall sleek woman stared directly at him behind her rectangular glasses for a long uncomfortable moment, as everyone turned to get a glimpse of the new person. Some protectively put their hand over the seat next to them as they were waiting for others to join them. (She quirked an eyebrow at that. It is also important to note that she kept her arms stiffly at her side as if she was missing something a bit swishy that usually hid her.)

Arthur began sweating nervously, what? Why'd she look so official? Did his dad send out an inspector to test him? Wasn't that a bit much?

But his Dad who was usually comfortable everywhere he went, looked distinctly uncomfortable at this point and licked his lips out of nervousness. Everyone stared at him as this was highly unusual, that gave them the cue for them to be nervous.

Arthur already was doing it; he didn't need permission. He held tightly onto his spatula and inched behind his father but only halfway to keep an eye on the intimidating woman.

The woman who had entered looked a little confused on why everyone was acting this way but bored her eyes into his fathers as if challenging him, as if she knew him(He really hoped this wasn't the lady his Dad tried to invite to go catching and boiling crabs with as a date). And then locking once more on Arthurs. He didn't like it, something in his head was simmering to the top against his skull. it wasn't anger but an odd sensation, he slammed his hand on his head to stop it before it scalded.

She regained herself in a elegant manner and then,

she walked directly toward him in such a way that toast cat and her would be cousins.


	2. The woman won't eat my pizza.

Ch. 2 The woman won’t eat my pizza.

“Barry.” The very vertical woman said, with a nod. It felt more like a statement than acknowledgement.

Mr. Dewey became very tight-lipped as if the woman was trying to feed him a spoonful of porridge and he wouldn’t have it. Instead of nodding back, he jerked his head towards the door.

“We’re closing early! Everyone out!” he yelled in a pained voice pointing at the lot of them in a get-going movement. 

There were cries of outrage and concern. (“This the lady whose painting you knocked over? That was an acci-” “We can hel-” “I’m not done!”)

“EVERYONE OUT!” Mr. Dewey roared more firmly than before. 

They seemed to understand now and scrambled towards the door, some stuffing eggs in their mouth and the French Fry kid hurriedly finished his task dumping the remainder of his fries off his plate onto the table(Of which Arthur growled at).

The doorbell finished its ballad finally with the old man, Cian, who stopped to wave at the woman politely before winking knowingly at Arthur and squeaked out the door.

Mr. Dewey sighed, releasing every bit of disappointment he had to offer wringing his hands on his apron straps, ”Minerva, not here for breakfast I suspect?”

Minerva did not answer his question,(Leaving Arthur hopeful as he readied his spatula in case she said yes) Instead she raised both eyebrows, ”Painting?”

Arthur laughed and Mr. Dewey blushed pointing a ‘now see here’ finger opening his mouth but stopping when he saw Ciara peeking in through the window along with one of the men who were loudly discussing the football game before. 

Their eyes widened at being caught and he grumbled and stomped over with each hit of his heel being louder than the last and shut the blindfolds so hard he almost tore them off.

He huffed and swiveled around still pink in the ears ,”It was made to look like stairs! I thought it was some new Tube entrance! Devious artists……..” Mr. Dewey mumbled.

Now trying to control his giggles Arthur couldn’t help but feel the need to inform her, ”I’ve stopped painting Dinosaurs just in case..” he said with a quick glance at his Father.

Mr. Dewey's turned red as red as Cian's Ruddy boot and smacked him lightly on the back of his head. 

The woman, Minerva, seemed to be wearing the tiniest of smiles. The kind that got shrunk in the wash five times in a row.

“You’d think a muggle that could see through…..” she shook her head.

Muggle? What? Was that a word you’d call a thief? Smuggle?

Arthur squinted at her regretting sharing the dinosaur part.

She cleared her throat, ”Change your mind yet Barry?”

Mr. Dewey crossed his arms now looking furious and determined,” ’Fraid not cattie.” he said coldly.

It was, in fact, very hard to change Mr. Dewey's mind. If you had four buttons on your coat, but he only remembered you having three, then you’d have three buttons.

Arthur stared up at her having taken a bold step forward. What were they talking about? He wanted to know.

Minerva narrowed her eyes, "You do realize,” she began as if he were being very troublesome, "What will happen if he does not go? If he does not learn to control it, the dangers? The risks that it would pose?” 

Mr. Dewey looked conflicted now but he did not back down, "There’s more Dangers” he spat venomously, "In going to that bloody chotski with that nutter from before...he’s my son. I know what I’m doing!” he said, raising his voice.

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, "Considering how that’s what you said when-”

Arthur was tired of waiting and his father looked like he was going to throttle her, he turned effectively cutting off the possible colourful sentences that they would produce, "What’s she talking about?”

He raised an eyebrow at their silence and then it clicked, his eyes widened, "Is this about you sending me to the pound?! I thought that was a jok-”

Mr. Dewey's own eyes almost fell out the sockets, "No! Nothing like that!” he hurried, waving his arms around like a madman. 

Minerva scoffed, "My students may behave occasionally of one, but it’s nothing of the sort I assure you.”

Students? This lady really liked saying the oddest of things.

Mr. Dewey and Minerva had some sort of silent argument as Arthur lost interest at how vague they were being and began to pick at stains on the countertop. Huh. He didn’t recall cooking any vegetables?

He was so engrossed in trying to put a name to the charred body of food that he didn’t snap back into reality until his father bellowed, "IT’S NOT HER MAKING THIS DECISION. AND NOT YOU.”

Both Arthur and Minerva were stunned into silence. Arthur put his hand on his heart as it was trying to beat out of his chest.

Her face contorted into rage, "I’ll be back tomorrow. Mr. Dewey.” she said very silently but bubbling with emotion. 

Mr. Dewey made a weird gurgling noise and waved her off angrily grabbing cleaning supplies looking like he was considering spraying a nice scented breeze in her eyes.

She raised her hand about to do something but was stopped by Arthur once more not being able to read the room.

“Wait!” he yelled. She stopped and looked down at him, seeming to calm slightly adjusting her skewed glasses. Her eyes roaming on his jumper suddenly noticing the pattern of ducks.

“Yes?” she muttered softly waiting on what he had to say.

Arthur rocked on his heels excitedly, "Since you’re here, do you want to try today's special? I made it! It’s called Gar-Lick your fingers pizza! It also has fish-” and he proceeded to rattle off a never-ending list of disgusting toppings.

She looked a little green ,”Ah…..I’m afraid I've come to have negative associations with garlic ……” Minerva looked like she was thinking about someone she knew. Or rather didn't want to know. 

Arthur deflated, but quickly brightened up in a matter of seconds, “does honey make you upset?!” he asked.

She looked close to the seaweed on his special pizza by now. 

“Yes.” Minerva stated disappearing with a loud pop.

Arthur gaped.


	3. The Sponge is attacking me!

Ch.3 (The sponge is attacking me!)

Arthur had no such luck getting his dad to talk. The woman that exploded, he wasn't getting an explanation for either. His father, clearly lying, just simply said she walked out the door normally and even put his hand to his head to check for a fever. It made Arthur incredibly angry, he knew what he saw, but the doubt kept spilling in when his dad looked at him bewildered whenever he insisted that's what he saw. Mr. Dewey was turned around when it happened yes but surely he heard!

It didn't matter however, as he refused to speak and looked immensely guilty staring at the pile of mail delivered from earlier, as if he’d done something terrible that he wanted to take back.

Every time he got close to it he looked near tears. Arthur tried getting close and reading them or to get a peek but he got sent to his room every time. 

He tested fate, prodding an imaginary cattle rod at his father to talk, but Mr. Dewey looked so distraught that Arthur just went downstairs and opened early getting everything ready without him.

As he was taking orders, Cian was back taking his time and all the jam they had.

“Usual?” Arthur said numbly, not in the mood for small-talk, his fathers mood rubbing off on him.

Cian raised an eyebrow causing a tidal wave of wrinkles, "What? Have an empathy link with you Da’ do ya?” 

Arthur only huffed and wrote down a random order, "Coffee and Jaffa Cake,” Without his input. Not maliciously of course, Cian just never said anything straightforward and it was incredibly annoying. So he began to write down random things and the other seemed just fine with that. 

But if he accidentally ruined whatever plans he had with all that jam on this fine morning? Not his fault. 

Everyone was staring at Mr. Dewey trying to get him to talk but he just mimbled and mumbled about, focused only on cooking.

Ciara wrinkled her nose, "Gross! He’s sulking in my soup!”

Arthur shrugged a bit tired of everyone poking fun of his Dad. He didn’t know what it was but he was obviously upset and shouldn’t get treated like that. 

He stared at him for a moment and then back to Ciara who was once more stealing peppermints from the bowl as Cian looked at her curiously.

“He kept staring at the mail…..I suspect it’s a letter from Aunt Devon he doesn’t want to open…” Arthur confided in them.

He was a bit weary for that reason too. Aunt Devon was of the nice sort but she smelled of how when you left your wet clothes in a corner and was rather fond of a cat named Tiger who was shaved like a lion and acted like a spoiled child.

Cian snorted into his coffee and Ciara now had a mixture of pity and sympathy on her face, "It’s that is it? You’re eleven aren't you now?” she said looking at him and resting her head on her fist. 

Arthur stared. What? Did they have some sort of plan to send him away at eleven to Aunt Devon? He felt absolutely gutted.

Ciara noticed him jumping to conclusions in his head and prodded his hand which was clenching the counter very hard. "You might want to check your mail again Artie….” she finished grinning.

A man that Arthur forgot the name of looked over ,”Letter? What are you lot talking about?” he demanded.

Ciara and Cian looked at each other and then back to the nosy gentlemen who had hash brown on his lip.

“Oh, just that young Arthur here might be meeting a certain…..Pen pal….Soon enough.”

Arthur looked at him in shock. How did he know about his pen pal from Algeria?

Ciara hummed grabbing a sugar packet, "Again, you mean.”

\-------------------

They were closed, not for another Tall lady emergency but it was the end of the day now. They had pried everyone out of their chairs and the mugs from their hands.

They waved goodbye, his father rather limply, and began to finish work. Mr. Dewey moved very slowly as if having no energy left to live at all.

Arthur gingerly took the plates from him and began scrubbing as his father watched with shiny eyes missing its usual twinkle.

Then, the most peculiar thing happened. Arthur began to get so worried he felt sick but too nervous to ask him. So he took his frustration out on the poor plate, scrubbing harder. And Harder. Was that a scratch? Whatever. And Harder. And Faster.

Until,

The plate exploded, water shot up from the sink in a great thick stream drowning the fire alarms and drenching the both of them making them look like they'd just shook hands with a typhoon.

The dish soap began pouring itself on the floor making Mr. Dewey slip into the door with a loud bang and a cry of pain.

Arthur gurgled in horror as he got a mouthful of dirty dishwater from a very aggressive rogue sponge trying to wipe off his freckles because it apparently thought they were dirt.  
He slipped and slided and grabbed hold of the counters to edge his way towards the source, plugging his tiny fist in the hole where he thought it was coming from. His father joined him, it wouldn’t stop even after they both took their legs and arms and tried to plug every hole imaginable. 

He heard a familiar pop and a, ”Barry- Oh my!”

She swished her weird stick thing and the water suddenly stopped. Slowly draining until the water faucet was only dripping a bit. Minerva stared sternly at the faucet until it stopped dripping, and whacked the sponge that was currently trying to get into Arthurs shoe.

Arthur flopped on the soppy ground making a smack noise, breathing hard.

Two faces leered over him. A smug Minerva, and a defeated looking Mr. Dewey.

He sighed, his apron end dripping water on Arthur's face," I suppose I've changed my mind.”


	4. Keep your Time vortex nice and clean!

Ch 4. Keep your Time vortex nice and clean!

Arthur was stunned. And amazed, absolutely amazed.

Minerva, who told him he was to call her Professor McGonagall and made it very clear that if he were to call her anything else, he could gladly test the new unstable aging potion in the market that would only turn you one-hundred and six and nothing else, and then earn the years to call her such.

He did not need that much after that to begin calling her Professor.

Professor McGonagall had assured him he was not seeing things earlier when she exploded, she was simply using a high-level magic that was basically teleportation that made you…..queasy. She discussed splinching and how those new to the way of transportation reacted.

Arthur really hoped nobody would vomit after being splinched with another person. That would become incredibly awkward.

After this she had told him that she would be off to pick him up early before the term started. He had a feeling this didn't happen often with her , but his father was for some odd reason incredibly opposed to going near anything magic. He didn't seem to have a problem going near him at all though, and he had regained some of his lively spirit.

Which was a relief, because Arthur didn't want to have to explode the mop bucket for him to stop sulking again.

It was very hard to believe that someone who didn't fit in properly with most people because of the odd things that happened that made people stay away. That there was a place full of a bunch of those people, who had similar experiences. Who knew what it felt like. Hogwarts. It all felt very dream-like (except for the name, that wasn't very dreamy.)

Arthur often had something squat and pink and ugly screaming in his dreams, he hoped it wouldn't ruin this one.

His father grinned at him jumping around the room happiest he had ever been holding his sopping wet letter and told him to go put his energy to use, so he began sweeping vigorously.

Professor McGonagall had mentioned them riding brooms, and about a class involving learning how to ride them.

Arthur grinned at his, he wondered if wizards had dust balls on theirs too.  
\----------------------

"Have you got your money to take to the er- goblin- bank?" Asked Mr. Dewey with sunken eyebrows clapping nervously with his hands.

Arthur showed him the envelope of money shaking it around "Gotcha!" , and dove around the couch trying to see if there was any more loose change, he'd heard there was an ice cream shop and he wouldn't want to miss that for the world if he couldn't help it. He hoped they had banana, or rum, or mint-

His dad took a breath and went to were he was, "Now- don't lose that! That's a lot! Worth a few weeks of lunch rushes. It'll be enough to get everything necessary- I think." he said looking at him sternly.

Arthur popped up from his spot, with dust in his hair , "Don't worry- I heard you can take a pet with you you know!" he grinned.

Mr. Dewey put a hand on his shoulder roughly," I said necessary. I don't think using all your money on whatever mangy fur-ball- or tiny dragon and whatnot- you'll probably pick out and burn my favorite wooden spoon with, is necessary."

"I never said I was going to. Just that I heard." Arthur said mischievously with his hands folded behind his back.

Mr. Dewey raised an eyebrow, "You hear a thing or two you should know a thing or two but you always seem to forget the second part.."

Arthur only widened his grin. He did know a thing or two- on how to manipulate phrases. His Dad never said he couldn't get a stray. Only to not use the money on one from there.

He had befriended a red salamander from under a rock and some kind of weasel-like stoat thing that hung out in the pipes. He nicknamed them Sally and Wesley respectively, although their real names he had for them would not be able to be said without taking a French cooking class.

It wouldn't be easy to get them on a train, and he also wasn't sure how both of them would react together- they were too different. One was a predator and the other was a tiny salamander, one was somehow stern and the other mischievous, and one liked bugs while the other potato salad.(Wesley refused anything else)

Arthur was drawing up a plan in his head involving tiny baseball caps and false empty ball point pens before it was nearly time to go(however, that wouldn't work for he did not own any pockets on his shirts and it would be too late to convince everyone this late in the year that he liked wearing them) , he scrambled and grabbed all his things making sure everything was in place.

Although, that did not matter as he dropped it all when his Dad picked him up and squeezed so hard the pence he'd found and put in his pocket was probably cracked in half.

"I'm only- going- to the - diagona-" he wheezed.

The hug seemed to last three lifetimes and he gasped for air and fell to the floor when he was let go.

Mr. Dewey laughed," just a tiny bit more preemptive planning" he said looking like he wanted to pick him up again, Arthur bolted down the stairs and smoothed(tried to at least) out his hair. To see the Professor who had surprisingly come very early.

As he jumped down the last bit of stairs and stumbled to the floor, Professor McGonagall didn't look at him but held out her arm, "Moved on from sponges to give a feather duster sentience did you Mr. Dewey?"

Arthur looked down at himself, he was covered in dust. He shook himself off and patted down his hair with all of it falling out looking very similar to the dust that fell out of ceilings when they were about to fall down.

He blushed, "Was waiting so long it mighta' collected a bit." he replied sarcastically and looked away.

She was still holding out her arm," I thought it might be best to get a move on- I have things to do as well. Have you said your goodbyes?"

As he opened his mouth to reply he heard thundering footsteps from the stairs, he tried turning around but was met with his fathers arms and another immensely hard squeeze.

He was back to choking out "Put-me-down-" as his father began twirling him around, very obviously trying to embarrass him yelling about how much he'll miss him and his habits of-

Well. It wasn't going to be repeated here.

Professor McGonagall allowed herself a normal smile, "My arm is getting tired Mr. Dewey."

Arthur grinned and ran over looping their arms.

She was back normal now, "Make sure to keep your mouth closed or the other direction from me Mr. Dewey."

Arthur held his breath and then. Pop!

\--------------

The sensation was like travelling everywhere and nowhere all at once, you were going left as you were going down and up as you were going right. Unpredictable movement in such a way that if you were a chess piece, the other person would flip the board in frustration.

The way she had described it was that it happened instantly. But it didn't feel instant, there was something going inside of him, a stream of something. It was moving through his insides and making him want to barf, maybe that was it?

He realized he could feel himself, and some sort of really weird wet wind. Arthur opened his eyes immediately regretting it as they felt shaky , and squishy but rough as if a marshmallow.

But he willed himself to stay open, there were colours everywhere, colours that looked mixed together but at the same time separate.

Arthur turned to his side seeing McGonagall completely unbothered as if she didn't know what was happening, she was in the same position as they left.

He, now curious, started to move his arms. And it worked! He considered staying with her until this possibly rode over, but his curiosity was outweighing it.

He slipped out of Professor McGonagall's grasp and moved around in the super weird room thing. It felt like he was in a diving pool and skydiving at the same time.

Swimming over just a bit careful not to get too far from her, (it was rather funny, she was just being launched through such top speeds in a very stiff position swirling slightly.)

And noticed another figure.

As he got closer, passing a family and their two children, one of which was grabbing onto the hair of the other, having a grotesque snarl on their face, frozen with it.

And the probable father who had his hand down his trousers trying to pull up his sock.

Arthur ignored them getting closer to the figure who appeared to be…..Sweeping?

The figure, a man(?) with wild half green half red hair and no eyebrows. Had on a cloak that looked just as confusing as the rest of the room, the clothing looked solid and fluid as well, and upright window shaped glasses with one frame broken.

They didn't pay him any attention, very immersed in getting a bit of what appeared to be a finger off the ground.

Arthur stared for a long while allowing them time to stand up and complain about having to go 'All the way to the other vortex to return it'

The figure hummed some weird alien-like noise and turned, finally seeing Arthur who waved at him politely.

Their eyes widened out of their skull- Literally. Turning as tall as Arthur was, and started sputtering,"How-Wh- Whattya doin here kid!"

"Why are you sweeping?" Arthur asked back confused and alarmed at such capabilities being preformed.

The figure raised what would've been a brow, and put their hands on their hip transforming into a vacuum with eyes, "Because the last time I used a Vacuum I had to fill out paperwork for days to find out whose arm I sucked up!"

They angrily wheeled over, "Oh great- I'll probably have to have another week because some weird kid can see through all this! Lovely- just fantastic!" they said waving their tube in the air sarcastically.

Weird?

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "Hey! It isn't my fault-"

"Of course it isn't. It'll be mine no matter what I say to the 'O great one' !"

Arthur folded his arms, "You don't have to be rude you know I can just go back and try to leave-"

"Oh can it! Let me think!"

Arthurs eye twitched, "why don't ya' vacuum up that great big mouth of yours!" he snapped.

The vacuum gasped dramatically sucking in the nearby broom and choked.

They turned into the red-green haired figure again spitting out the broom which now had turned tiny ,and had comically large eyebrows, "Alright- Eraser Brows- Why don't you-"

"I could call you the same!"

The figure began to steam and turn a red colour but stopped for a moment, blinking, the large eyebrows shrinking, "Hold on a moment cookie crumb face-" and took out what appeared to be a mood ring.

It slowly shifted from some weird colour to yellow.

The figure's mood instantly shifted from displeased with the world(Vortex?) to cheerful.

"The names- well- you won't be able to hear it- different frequencies you humans are on you know- just call me Tuna!"

Arthur blinked. "Tuna?"

Tuna nodded vigorously, "Yup! Sorry about that- the stupid ring, I got it as a gift and it turns out it controls what you feel like- for like- forever!"

Tuna swam over to him putting a hand on his back accidentally phasing through it making Arthur shiver ,"Oop- different frequencies- forgot, right right."

Tuna suddenly freaked out still smiling and cursed in triangle equations.

"Oh no you don't! You're about to vomit! I just swept! Go on! Shoo shoo! Visit sometime though- maybe bring some saw dust- easier to clean vomit with-"

"What-"

"There's a reason Vortex and Vomit start with the same words you know, same place, same root! Go!"

They raised their arms and the wind carried Arthur back to Professor McGonagall nearly knocking the man pulling up his socks in the face.

Arthur grabbed desperately for her arm and looked the other way, he didn't really feel sick but he trusted the vortex things words

He heard a call,"Oh- and don't tell anyone about this! best they think they messed up- splinching or whatever they call it- saves me trouble!"

And felt a large force pull his insides out and back

Pop!


End file.
